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Hey Everyone!

Time for the last travel blog post before I'm on my way back to the Netherlands again. Just came back yesterday from a two week trip to Ofunato, a town way up north in Japan that way washed away for a large part by a tsunami six years ago. A teacher at the University here, a graduate student working as performance stage builder and me went to there from Kyoto to help out working on the art part of a festival, a week and a half before it started.

Before that, July wasn't much special, following the usual routine and finishing school properly. Class was getting empty gradually and I already gave my good bye speech to classmates at the end of the month. Earlier today, I sent out messages to some friends to make plans to meet once more before I leave and wrote down what to do in the Netherlands before I go back to Japan next year after graduation. Other than that, it's saying goodbye at the cramming school and the badminton club at university, last time ballroom dancing here, last time talking to the head of illustration and properly give a present as a token of my appreciation, last time talking to a lot of other acquintances here and make preparations to send a few boxes of luggage by boat, as I can take only one suitcase with me on the way back without extra charge. (sigh...)

The beginning of August however, was quite spectecular. I got the honour of seeing a place that exchange students would normally never go to. We left the 29th of july in the morning, drove a little over a 1000km by car in one day to arrive in Ofunato in the evening. Before the trip I heard stories about the tsunami and the disaster around, but seeing things the next morning after arrival really made a big impression: around the riverside most of it is wasteland without much nature and a lot of construction sites - some quite advanced, some just with the soil properly flattened. Unnaturally looking, some perfectly finished building also popped up, like a huge hotel for example. A bit further up north the mountainside, there were still a lot of undamaged buildings, but according to the stories of an old villager the waves went up to the top of the roof of his house as he was watching safely from a place a bit up higher. However, the house of this man was at least 200, 300 meters from the beach and quite a bit higher. Miraculously, his house was left unharmed by the tsunami, but all of the other houses in the street fell and are still not rebuilded because the government does not want to spend the money for it, so now it's mainly earth with some grass but not much other vegitation.
Interestingly, the same man told me about help that came from other contries and thanked me as a Dutch citizen, because the Netherlands happened to send tulips to Ofunato after the tsunami that time. For me that sounded a bit small for resque help at first, but the man told he was really happy that some color and nature came around, because there was absolutely nothing left of the place that time and the tulips are still being replanted at a place where everyone can see them.

As we were looking around the part where the festival (Sanriku International Arts Festival) would take place (a bit higher than riverside, but not much), I was told that some of the shops around there were not there yet a few months ago, which was a weird thing to realize because the buildings in that area had already a feeling of a nice small town shopping center. A lot of stories of townspeople also made a big impression, but the thing that really made me start to realize te extend of the disaster was the miracle pine, south of Ofunato. This is a tree in an area terrorized by the tsunami that miracleously survived, while all of the thousands of other trees there fell and were washed away. It was confirmed death because of salt water damage, but chosen to perserve as monument and is now a tourist spot, that can be reached by a path that very much has the feeling of a construction site; metal plates, dirt, stone, fences, some signs and all around dirt flattened out a bit.
I honestly have never seen a place with such a cold, horrible atmosphere, even though the tree was said to be a simbol of hope. But it's exactly that contrast between that one tiny piece of hope surrounded by nothingness that silenced me.

Anyway, the festival was to create happiness in this area that was/is getting back to normal slowly but surely, by bringing in performance groups from all over South East Asia and hold art workshops for the citizens. The 30th of july we started building stuff (cutting wood - mainly in mackerel shape which is the symbol and main trade product of Ofunato, building things with the wood, dying cloth, loading and unloading stuff and having meetings - for me just to withness, because of lack of experience and difficulty keeping track of quick Japanese conversations that already contains plenty of to me unknown content without even mentioning the translation issue.
I have never had so much difficulty receiving so many critique/advice in such a short period of time, never learned so much and never had so much fun experiencing building and participating in a festival.

Some highlights were the Ofunato fireworks; in Japan there is a national holiday called 'Obon' at the 14th of August where people visit graves of beloved ones, believing that the spirits of the passed away return for only that day. Flowers are left, candles lightened and conversations held. There is a tradition that in the period before Obon a lot of festivals and fireworks are held so the spirits will know where they have to go at Obon day, to speak with their beloved ones that are still living. Because with the tsunami a lot of people died, the festivals before the 14th are being held precious and the government there decided to keep the fireworks tradition intact and make it a spectacular one with 8000 arrows send into the air. Hearing this explaination, the feeling inside me, while watching the lights in the sky, suddenly saddened a bit and the show become more beautiful and memorable than any other fireworks I've ever seen before.
One of the festivals in this period that made a strong impression was 'kenka tanabata', which is where two huge wagons - decorated and with continiously active musicians inside, ram against each other, while people on top of the carts hit the very long bamboo stick of the ones on the other side with their own bamboo sticks. Around the battling area, a lot of food stands are set up. I was told by a woman that went four years before, the atmosphere was completely different; one wagon was washed away by the tsunami, so the people there tought it wouldn't be possible to hold kenka tanabata that year. However, because everyone came together and collected the money to build a new wagon, the festival could be held anyway. Old people all cried that day and besides the small festival area, there still isn't much other sign of human life around.

A highlight without sadness was the workshop at the kindergarten; (and one at a primary school as well) letting kids draw on the wooden mackerel that we cut before, making a stopmotion with them and having kids climb on your back, lifting them up in the air, pretending to be a monster and chasing them. One particular interesting point was that the Kyoto University teacher that I traveled with, Inoue Shinta, told me to pretend that I arrived yesterday, could not speak any Japanese and could obtain the ability of speaking Japanese for one day if the children and Shinta would cast magic on me together. So I waited first, spoke a few words English words every know and then while looking around slightly uneasy and suddenly switched to fluented Japanese after having my name screamed to me, shaking and falling over from the magic effect. Children were absolutely blown away.

The festival itself of course, was amazing as well. Dancing performances in styles never seen before with impressive movements and costumes that were already an artwork in itself. Music with instruments never seen before, theater plays and of course the workshops where I participated in as an instructor as well, having both children and adults draw on wooden mackerel. I'll add pictures of it all as well, so make sure to take a look.

Last but not least, the day after the festival, the three of us went to a drinking party. Completely different from the ones in Kyoto, because this one was in a traditional, country side style. In a large typical Japanese house, both children (running around, playing games) and adults (sitting at a table with way too much delicious food, drinking small amounts of alcohol and having a conversation), where sitting in one large, cosy room. Really a warm atmosphere and it took less than a hour before I was talking with the people from the countryside like we've been friends for years - talking about silly things like chest hair, making fun of each other, listening to the kids telling me stories about all sorts of stuff and playing mahjong for the first time - which was suprisingly easy (a bit like rummicub at the basis, but with a lot of extra rules). By the way, Japanese country side kids are a bit different; one time, they were playing with about 5cm large rhinocerus beetles - proudly showing them to anyone who was interested enough to watch and letting them walk on their hands.

The next day we left early in the morning and arrived late at night, as the teacher was nice enough to bring me all the way back home, which is up north, way off centre part Kyoto, so a really nice gesture.

That's pretty much it for now I guess. See you all back in the Netherlands :)